


Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance

by Notasmuch



Series: Sex Nerds [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Obedience, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 14:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: Brad and Nate go out and Brad starts pushing some buttons. They have an adult discussion about it, a lot of sex ensues and then Nate bullet journals it.





	Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you streetsuss_serenade for encouraging this and talking it out with me at whatever early hour I randomly woke up. 
> 
> I didn't tag all the bdsm stuff but I'd say it's all obedience and pain based, not much else I can think of. There's some praise, no humiliation.

"You know I'm a sure thing, right, you don't have to take me out on dates," Brad said from the balcony, where he was still standing in his briefs only, refusing to put clothes on until last minute. 

Nate had been over the giddy stage of being able to see him naked for a while, but he could still damn well appreciate the view. 

"If you think a cheap beer and a hockey game in a crowded bar is a date, then i have already failed you," he answered and threw a pair of jeans at Brad's head. 

Brad put them on with a sigh, then smirked in a way that piqued Nate's interest every time. It wasn’t like Brad to telegraph his moves so this was gonna be good. 

"Or," Brad started, coming closer, shirtless and with his fly undone, "we could stay here, put the game on, and then not watch it." He was in Nate's space now, coming closer, trying to push Nate into the wall and that just wouldn't do. Nate sidestepped and turned - a luckily willing - Brad against the wall instead. 

With his arm holding Brad there and Brad being so delightfully cooperative and smirky, Nate felt a whole other kind of interest bubble inside him. And, okay, Nate never claimed to not be an asshole. Sometimes, when the opportunity allowed it, he treated Brad in a way that probably meant nothing special to Brad, but that satisfied a need in Nate that he sometimes just couldn’t fight. 

Like now. Like putting his hand over Brad's dick and squeezing softly, like kissing him hard until they can’t breathe, like feeling him twitch in his hand one, two, three times, before he carefully zipped him up and left him panting against the wall with a t-shirt coming for his face. Brad caught it in time and glared but it didn’t pack much heat against the rest of him still straining for Nate's touch. 

Nate jiggled his keys and absorbed every single feeling coming off Brad. Being allowed to read Brad like that, easy as a book, now that still made him giddy.

**

The bar was full of Bruins fans in yellow and black and smelled of stale beer, but Nate loved it because for the last 6 months that they’d been going there, no one had once misunderstood Brad’s height or attitude as an invite to a brawl. He was a simple man with simple needs. 

They stood at the bar, people pressing around them in a way that made Brad twitch but that gave them the excuse to stand far too close. He could feel Brad’s arm against his and their shoulders pressed together every time they leaned in to speak to each other. 

And, Brad was being particularly chatty. He was never shy about expressing himself but he was usually better at picking a time and place. But Nate's play before they left must have unbalanced him more than Nate thought it would because he was hitting where he somehow, of course, knew it would hurt. 

"Told you we should have stayed at home. When was the last time Bruins won in the playoffs. You know I love that you still want to court me, but we could be literally anywhere else now, Sir." 

_Sir_ Nate's fingers twitched and even though Brad couldn’t see it, the smug bastard somehow knew he hit the target. He backed off to give Nate a few minutes to breathe. Nate knew that because he'd been doing the same thing since the last third started. It was 1:1 and Bruins were exhausted but holding on and he sensed a long fucking game coming. 

He was not, to be honest, exactly sure why Brad thought Nate reacted to that word. Did he think it was some kind of anti-military grudge he still held? Or did he know it was a kink, but thought something mild, maybe a holdover from their time in the Corps? Or did he assume it was a dark reminder to Nate that Brad used to be under him?  
Considering Brad only pulled it out when he was really pushing for something, a confrontation, or an apology, Nate could never tell, he clearly understood how strongly Nate felt about it. But Nate secretly hoped he didn’t fully understand why. It had the potential to make things... complicated. 

Three more times in the next fifteen minutes, all random interruptions, complaints and suggestions, all throwing around _Sir_, with the goalies on the screen not letting a single point through, and Nate was ready to beg forgiveness. He grit his teeth, stared at the screen and ignored Brad's eyes subtly probing for a reaction. Recon, he realized.

The next time Brad leaned in and Nate felt his breath against his ear, he shivered before the suggestive "Sir" even came out of Brad's mouth. Possibly, he snapped a little, there was only so much a man could take. 

"Are you fucking with me, Colbert?" he demanded in his best LT voice. 

Brad stopped mid sentence and looked away, an unusual, self deprecating smirk on his lips. _Brad rarely does self deprecation_, something whispered in Nate. He raised his bottle up and just before it touched his lips Nate saw him mouth "I wish." _The only thing Brad hated about himself was wanting things he knew he couldn’t have_.  
A silence came over Nate, like it used to when he would look through the scope. 

When Brad turned, he looked almost playful again and the sound came rushing back in like nothing had happened. But Nate knew, something wasn’t right. 

** 

They left the bar with dozens of other sad fans and Brad didn’t even comment out loud how stupid they had all been to believe they could win until they were far enough from the drunken masses. The spring air was still cool at night and Nate was only half listening to Brad's scathing dissection of the Bruins shitty gameplay year round. The other half was calculating. 

When, exactly, did Brad use that tactic? What were the usual consequences that kept him coming back to it? He’d never used it during sex. Never by accident. Never when happy. Frustration, Nate’s brain supplies. But that wasn’t quite right, Nate often had Brad frustrated, he didn’t always do it. And if he just did it every time he was angry or bored, Nate would have noticed. When was the last time…

And Nate remembered vaguely the last time he himself felt like this was after their hike in the White Mountains. Some six months ago, after a rain, Nate had been forced to watch Brad clearly chase an adrenaline high and seemingly seek out the most dangerous places to stand. After another rock covered in slippery grass had shifted under Brad’s weight and he laughed it off, Nate had put his foot down, figuratively, and told him to get off. He may have put some power behind it. Brad had looked startled for a moment, then his jaw clenched and he stepped down, carefully. He stayed careful for the rest of the hike but Nate paid the price. He thought, then, that Brad had been reminded of another time Nate ordered him out of a dangerous situation he didn’t want to remove himself from, and that he was just being petty. Looking at it from the new point of view, though, he realized Brad was frustrated because of something else. 

Brad was no longer talking, but that was ok because Nate wasn’t moving. 

Not frustrated. Helpless. Helpless against Nate’s orders. 

He looked up at Brad, trying to read him, and all he saw was confused amusement, until Brad noticed him scanning and shut down. It was a standoff, only one of them didn’t know what was at stake and that didn’t feel fair. So he took a deep breath, smiled, pushed Brad with his shoulder to start moving again and didn’t try to make conversation until the door of their apartment closed after them. 

Nate had his shoes off and was walking towards the kitchen when he noticed Brad still standing by the door, like he was refusing to move until Nate started speaking. 

And really, Nate had never met a wall he didn’t want to lob a grenade at and he knew Brad felt the same way, so why change a lifetime of habits. 

“I’m not sure if you’re leaving me breadcrumbs or trying to recon me.” Nate thought about it for a second longer. “Or both.” 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Sir.” 

Nate watched him say it this time. “That right there. You keep calling me that tonight. Any particular reason?”

“Thinking of the good old days?” 

“Are you asking me?” 

Brad took his shoes off and Nate let him think. 

“I guess my question is, Nate, how honest do you want me to be.” He said his name like a peace offering and Nate took it as such. 

“As honest as you feel you can be.” 

They were still in the hallway, in their socks, in their home, standing on the rug that Brad’s mother bought and Nate could see Brad’s shoulders relax. They weren’t enemies.

“I need a shower and a piss,” he finally said, “then we can delve into my psyche.” 

Nate smiled and walked back enough to kiss him quick and deep. “I love delving into your psyche. Don’t piss in the shower.” 

“Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me,” Brad sang at him and ran away before Nate could grab him. 

**

So maybe Nate had a bit of a weakness for warm, relaxed, freshly showered Brad. And maybe he got carried away on the couch delving into his underwear rather than his psyche. Whatever, they had time. 

**

Nate woke up to lips on his neck and a hand between his thighs, turning him slowly until he was on his back, Brad glowing in the morning sunlight over him. He couldn't help reaching up and dragging Brad into a real kiss, or pulling Brad on top of him, sheet pooled around their waists. When Brad sat up, a grin on his face, Nate ran his hands up his chest before he stretched to wake himself up fully. 

“Sometimes I like calling people ‘Sir’.” 

Sometimes, Nate thought, caught mid stretch, Brad liked to make sure people were at a disadvantage when he opened up to them. Usually not Nate though. 

“People?” He asked half joking. 

“Before, people. Now,” Brad tilted his head, “you.” 

Nate smiled up at him, his palms again restless on Brad’s long body. “Sometimes, I like people calling me Sir,” he admitted back. 

“People?” Brad leaned in closer. 

“Before, people. Now,” Nate kissed him, “you.” 

**

“So explain this to me,” Nate said while poking the omelette. He was following the recipe to the letter, why was the cheese turning into water? And why was the omelette so small? 

“You’re using the wrong cheese.” Brad said over his shoulder. 

“It’s just cheese, it’s generic.” 

“What brand is it?” 

“I don’t know, some cottage cheese.” 

“Hmm.” Brad said, unhelpfully. 

“Don’t change the subject, I was asking something,” he split the omelette, small as it was, on their plates and put them on the table with a sigh. It wasn’t burned. 

“Explanation.” 

“Yeah. You weren’t calling me Sir to turn me on. I mean, you absolutely did do that, but that wasn’t why you were doing it.” 

Brad already had a mouthful of omelette and he was working through it stoically. Nate raised an eyebrow at him. “Well you didn’t _forget_ the salt this time.” 

Nate stabbed his fork through the soggy mess and tried it. Definitely didn’t forget the salt. What the hell, he followed the recipe. He got himself and Brad large glasses of water. 

“Sometimes,” Brad started, “when you make me do things, it helps me to remind myself that I trust you even when you want me to do things I hate. People, objectively, you’re better at. So I trust there’s a reason why you make me go out on Friday night when we could just not go out.” 

He shoved a forkful of salty eggs in his mouth, but Nate knew there would be more. 

“The first time was an accident. It slipped out,” Brad confessed when he was done chewing and finished the water. “But you reacted unusually.” 

“Hot and bothered?” Nate suggested. 

Brad made an unsure noise. “Guilty and bothered. Frankly I assumed you were holding on to some misplaced guilt about seducing a subordinate, so I just decided to be annoying. Why suffer alone.” 

Nate choose wisely not to comment on what a piece of false information that seduction line was and focused instead on the main point. “Definitely not that. I was feeling guilty because…” he waved a hand around, suddenly unsure if the breakfast table was the right place for this. 

“Because you’re a pervert who was getting off on it,” Brad helpfully finished for him. 

“Because,” Nate glared, “it was turning me on and I didn’t think you were trying to do that.” His tone got a bit more apologetic then. “And yesterday, well, I thought you might be doing it to tell me to back off, subtly.” 

“This is why OCS stresses the importance of communication.” 

“Yeah, _this_ is why.” 

Brad shrugged and focused on dipping the toast in the cheese water. Salty eggs were long gone. “I think the eggs were too small for this recipe,” he finally said. 

Nate nodded. Probably. Luckily it was Brad’s turn tomorrow. 

“Can’t believe you thought I was trying to be subtle,” Brad murmured after a while.

“Navigating a relationship is more complicated than navigating a humvee in Iraq with your windows taped shut. But wait, it is also a sex thing, right? You were not just doing it to piss me off.” 

“Oh yeah,” Brad grinned filthy and flirty, “definitely a sex thing too.” He got serious again. “It can be both.” 

“Not at the same time.” 

Brad rolled his eyes. “If you want to be well adjusted about it…” 

“I do,” Nate confirmed, leaving no place for doubt. Neither of those were a joke for him. He was reassured when Brad nodded back, just as serious. 

Brad made him coffee and started doing the dishes, and Nate figured not being face to face could help with the rest of the conversation. “What else are you into?”

Brad just shrugged. "What are _you_ into?" He asked back. 

Nate allowed the ricochet. “Shocking to absolutely no one I like a bit of obedience. I don't mind giving pain, almost anything that doesn't draw blood, although I could be persuaded probably. I'm not looking for a whole lifestyle and I obviously don't need it all the time. No scat. Maybe breath play but rarely.”

Nate liked things neat and knew what he wanted, but as he recited his rote he kept his eyes on Brad’s back, looking for a reaction. He was not sure what it meant that he got no feedback. 

“That seems fine,” was all he got in reply eventually. 

“That doesn't actually answer my question,” he said. 

Nate realized there were only so many dishes two people could use in one breakfast so he got up and walked over to Brad, nudging his arm as he scrubbed the clean sink. 

“I like everything you mentioned.” His voice was just a shade too moderated for Nate’s liking.

“That's a start, but I still want to hear what _you_ like.” 

Brad washed his hands and finally turned away from the sink. 

“Okay look, here's the thing, and please don't take it as a challenge.”

_Seems likely_, Nate thought.

“I like pain. But I've never had anyone push any kind of limit for me. Even other Marines. Makes sense when you think about it, who can do worse to me than boot camp.” He laughed like he was delighted by the thought.  
“The point is, I still enjoy it all, but I like a bit of diversity or I get bored. And as long as you’re not set on making it a religious experience, I’ll be into it.”

It would be unfair to say that the words "religious experience" and "challenge" were the only ones Nate registered, but the idea of serving mediocrity and being satisfied with that triggered a response in him he didn’t tend to consciously carry into personal relationships. A plan started forming in his head, and he needed space to develop it. 

"So," Brad started with a wink and a grin a few minutes later, when they were done with their Saturday breakfast routine, "want to stay home all weekend and fool around?" 

Nate laughed at the wink but shook his head. "Weren't you gonna go for a ride today?" He realized his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth and covered Brad's shiteating grin before he could speak. "On your bike. South. To take photos." 

Brad shrugged. "I could change my plans," he answered when Nate moved his hand. 

"No," Nate said carefully, thinking, "I have some work to do, we can spend all day in bed tomorrow." 

"That's just cruel, Sir."

Nate looked at him sharply. "You don't know what cruel is yet. Do as you're told, Gunny, meet at nineteen hundred." 

Brad stared at him for a breath longer than normal, then composed himself and mock saluted. 

** 

At 6:55 that evening Nate was back at the kitchen table tapping his fingers against the wood nervously. Brad was showering and Nate had a hard time not joining him, but he had plans. Plans Brad would potentially not enjoy, since they included talking about what he wanted, so best not to agitate him by bribing him with sex first. 

Brad's camera was on the table and he picked it up and scrolled through the images. Since he moved stateside Brad developed a bunch of hobbies, some more healthy, some less, to help him deal with being off adrenaline. Nate maybe had a weakness for his photography because it was yet another window that Brad left open for him, and one that uniquely put him into Brad's perspective. It wasn't a pretty world that he saw. Brad had an eye for small imperfections, run down buildings and forgotten locations. It could have been intimidating, the realization that Brad saw everything. But the pictures were taken with so much care, the ruins captured with love, that Nate found it hard to see anything but safety in the knowledge that Brad would love every broken, twisted and regretful part of him. 

He heard him come in but didn't turn around until Brad leaned down on his shoulder to look at the pics too. "You should come with me next time." 

"I will," Nate promised and turned around for a kiss, noticing at the same time that Brad was totally naked. He groaned in amusement and frustration but that didn't stop him from sliding his hands over as much naked skin as he could reach while they kissed. 

"What's that?" Brad mumbled, his lips still pressed against Nate's but his eyes on the black moleskin on the table. 

"I made a strategic plan to help us figure this out." 

"Figure what o..." but his voice got somehow both quieter and more high pitched as realization slowly came to him. 

If Nate was honest, some 40% of why he made the notebook was to watch Brad react. The rest of it was just quality preparation and smart leadership. 

Brad made an aborted move to open the notebook but his face was still caught between two expressions and he seemed too afraid to complete the motion. Nate opened it for him. First few pages were just lists of things Nate has done and enjoyed, done but not enjoyed, done but definitely with the wrong person. Then there was a list of things he didn't want to do and finally, a short but incomplete list of things he would like to do for the first time with Brad. He turned the pages for Brad, watching his expression settle into amused, until he turned to the page that said Brad, with just the few things he knew written underneath. The rest of the pages were color coded by type. Humiliation, obedience, bondage, pain, control... the list itself wasn't long, but a lot of pages were left empty in each category, making it clear both that Nate intended to keep track of all new discoveries and that he set them some objectives. 

Brad hated paperwork, but he loved objectives. There was something there for everyone, Nate reasoned. 

Still. "Nate. No." Brad whispered, sounding more bewildered than Nate had imagined. 

"I don't like going into things without knowing what to expect. And neither do you," He reminded Brad gently. 

Brad looked at him for the first time since he noticed the notebook and Nate had to remind himself of the photos, Brad loved him _for_ his quirks, he reminded himself. 

"You don't think this is too much?" 

Nate shrugged. "Do you?" 

Brad looked at the notebook again, this time picking it up from the table with his own hands and leafing through it. "It's well organized," he noted, and Nate beamed with pride. "Will I have to... contribute, in any way other than being a guinea pig?" 

"Not at all. Btw being called a pig...?" 

"No." Brad said it firmly and Nate pulled out his pen and clicked it open, flipped to Brad's No page and wrote it down. When he finished, Brad leaned down again and kissed him hard. "I love you, you freak," he said after he broke the kiss and went to put some clothes on while Nate collected himself.

**

“I thought you said we would experiment tomorrow,” Brad teased and pushed himself away from Nate who was trying to kiss him on the couch while the hockey game neither of them cared about played on the TV. “I wouldn’t want to mess with your time management. I’m sure we can wait until tomorrow morning.” 

Nate looked down at Brad’s hand pushing against his chest, keeping him at bay and grabbed his wrist, moved the hand aside so he could sit astride Brad and keep him immobile until he was too turned on to make dumb jokes. 

He leaned in to kiss him and Brad tilted his head to avoid him, still smirking. Nate went with it and started kissing the side of his jaw, down his neck. He pulled the arm he was still holding, up against the back of the couch, and then did the same with the other one when he felt it sneak up between them. 

“Shouldn’t you be logging this in?” Brad asked, his face still turned but his voice getting deeper. “Do you want me to bring you the notebook? Star date…” 

“Brad,” Nate groaned, his nose in Brad’s hair and lips on the soft skin of his neck. “Let me kiss you.” 

“You are kissing me.” 

Nate growled. 

“You should ask me nicely,” Brad said with a smile. 

Nate raised his head until his lips were inches above Brad’s. “Please, let me kiss you.” 

Brad looked up at him and Nate wondered what he was waiting for. It took a long time, many shared breaths as Brad’s eyes searched his face, before he licked his lips and nodded his permission. Nate kissed him more softly than he intended, unsure of the mood change, unwilling to break himself away. His hands slipped from Brad’s wrists and pushed up until their fingers interlocked, until they were holding onto each other instead of Nate holding him down. 

He ended up between Brad’s long legs, tugging his briefs down just enough to put his mouth on him. He stayed there for a long time, intent on reassuring Brad maybe more than making him come, letting his knees and jaw go stiff before he stopped to breathe and readjust and then went for it again. Brad stayed quiet through most of it, as he usually did, except for occasional gasps of Nate’s name, but his hands were in Nate’s hair, fingers caressing his cheeks and lips, tilting his face up every now and then to make him look up. 

Nate took some pride in how well and how deep he was able to take Brad’s cock. It wasn’t always the case. When they first did it Nate could barely take the head before he started gagging. But he worked on it, patiently, and got to the point where he could take most of him without choking or biting or tearing up. He never quite got the hang of swallowing, always worried about actually choking to death, but Brad, the not so subtle asshole that he was, loved to watch him try and fail so Nate often indulged him. 

He pulled off for a quick moment. “You can push my head down when you come.” 

“Shit, ok.” Brad squeezed the back of his neck. 

It wasn’t a full minute later that Nate felt Brad’s thighs shiver and his hands on Nate’s head tighten, push down until Nate’s mouth was full of him, his nose almost touching the skin. His throat closed up straight away and no matter how much he tried to relax, it wouldn’t open up for anything but a gag or a cough. He looked up because he knew Brad loved it and let his body struggle until Brad was done. 

It was worth it for the look on Brad’s face when he pulled off, come still clinging to his lips and Brad’s dick. 

“Fuck Nate, I love you,” Brad breathed while he pulled him up and wiped his face with shaky fingers. 

“You’re a grumpy piece of shit, Brad,” Nate answered and Brad laughed loudly into his face. 

“I know, I know. Come on, let me make it better.” 

Nate climbed off him and lay back, pulling Brad to his side. He stopped being hard a while back, but he’d get there again soon enough. He had plans for the night. They included tiring Brad out fully, making him read the notebook entries he worked so hard on and then tiring him out again.  
“Nap, you’ll get me when you’re awake, we’re not done yet.” 

**

“Wake up, Brad. We’re starting.” Nate’s order was issued directly in Brad’s ear while his fingers pinched Brad’s nipple painfully. 

Brad woke up with a hiss and a twitch, fell down on his back and blinked up, disoriented like Nate had rarely seen him before. Stateside life was making him softer and Nate loved every second of it. 

“What are you going to address me, Brad?” 

“Sir,” Brad gasped, moving restlessly under Nate’s pinching fingers and nails. 

“Do you want me to call you something?” 

Brad hesitated and looked away and Nate snapped his fingers in front of his face and drew his attention back. “You don’t hide from me. I asked you a question.” 

“Colbert, Sir,” Brad answered defiantly and Nate smirked, he’d allow it. 

“Do you need a safeword?” 

Brad thought about it for a minute, still not able to stay still under Nate’s assault. “Yes, Sir.” 

“You plan on telling me ‘no’ for no fucking reason, Colbert?” 

“Maybe, Sir.” 

Nate laughed and rewarded the honesty by pinching Brad’s nipple with his sharp canines. “What’s the word?” 

“I like the color code, Sir.” 

“Good, same for me.” 

Nate sat over Brad’s sternum and lifted his head, slightly marveling at the fact that Brad was relaxed enough in his hands to let him. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” Brad answered.

“I love you, and I know you, but I’m not a mind reader. If I’m doing something wrong, tell me. If I’m doing something right, also tell me. We’re just experimenting today, I want to find out as much as I can before work week starts up, but I don’t want to break either of us.” 

Brad licked his lips, “I’m not gonna let you break us, Sir, you have my word.” 

Nate smiled and kissed him. 

“I do have to piss though, Sir.” 

“Yeah, that’ll have to wait,” Nate said, done with the interlude. “Yellow if you’re about to piss yourself but if you’re not starting to trickle I _will_ slap you for being a liar.” 

“God. Yes, Sir.” 

Nate got off him and sat on his side of the bed instead. “Put your arms above your head, spread your legs a bit and don’t move.” 

Brad did as he was told and Nate watched him from the new point of view, like he hadn’t let himself do before, really. He watched his long, strong legs, with golden hair on his thighs and soft skin between. His firm stomach, still so vulnerable when exposed, and his underarms, pale and warm, and, Nate knew, ticklish when Brad was relaxed enough. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Brad’s fingers wiggling nervously. 

“Colbert. Did you forget how to follow orders?” He set his hand on Brad’s fingers to let him know what he was doing wrong. “I said don’t move. I trust I won’t have to repeat my orders again?” 

“No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.” 

“Mhm,” Nate mumbled, knowing that sounding unsure would help make Brad defiantly obedient. God it was good to play with someone he knew so well. Figuring out what made him tick would only make it better. 

Nate watched both Brad and the clock for three minutes. Brad stayed still, outwardly, but Nate saw his body tense up with every minute like he too was counting in his head. When Nate reached out and touched his thigh, Brad actually flinched. 

Nate leaned over so their faces were close together. “Brad.” He got a slightly confused look in return. “There is no trick. When I tell you not to move, all I want you to do is not move. When I do nothing, you wait. I’m not saying it’s off the table completely, but today, you do what I tell you, you take what I give you, no games.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Okay, let’s try again. Don’t move.” 

This time, no matter how long Nate watched, and it was a good ten minutes before he moved again, Brad just stayed put, relaxed and breathing even, but not falling asleep. Waiting. 

When Nate moved again, Brad accepted it. Nate bit all the softest, unprotected parts of him he had identified. His arm, the belly, between his thighs, his ribs and neck. He pressed on his bladder just a bit to see if there was any reaction but aside from a short cringe, nothing happened. “You’re doing so well, Colbert.” Brad reacted to the praise by taking a deep breath and Nate filed it for later. 

“We talked about pain, so I want to see how it goes with no pleasure involved.” He didn’t expect an answer, he just pulled out a small travel bag he prepared the day before, packed with some things he liked. He pulled out two paddles and one strap, though he only planned to use the paddles but he wanted the strap close by just in case. 

He got between Brad’s legs and put one of them on his shoulders, massaging the thigh quickly to get the blood flowing, although the skin was still sleep warm under his fingers. 

“You don’t have to ‘prep’ me, Sir.” 

“I didn’t ask for your commentary, Colbert, but this one time I will let you know that there is a difference between what we’re doing and me just trying to beat you the fuck up.” 

Brad swallowed but didn’t comment again and let Nate do the same to his other leg, before he put them both down again. 

“Alright. Put your legs up, spread them wide, hold with your hands behind your knees.” 

Brad did as he was told but Nate wasn’t sure it was wide enough. “Hm. Let me put it this way. I’ll be waving a paddle and a strap around there, pull them as far from your dick as you’re comfortable with.” 

Brad moved again and this time his legs were wide enough that Nate was satisfied. “Good.” He ran his hand down Brad’s thigh again, enjoying the view from between his legs as well. 

“Let me know if you start cramping up.” He leaned in again, his hand covering Brad’s soft cock casually. “Otherwise. Don’t move. Don’t speak. If you try to get away from me, I will hit you harder. If you need a break, yellow, _don’t_ move away. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Nate moved back and kneeled a bit to the side. He picked up one makeshift paddle, a thick piece of wood with 4 different sized holes in it. Originally made to measure pasta quantities. It would sting like a mothefucker.  
He set the other one between his legs, for quick exchange. That one was a single heavy piece of wood, deeply ridged for intensity, with a good, strong thud to counterpoint the sting of the first one. Brad said he liked diversity. 

Nate’s plan, unless stopped, was to do a set of five on each side, pause, then do two more, switch paddles and repeat. It was an easy count for him and would give him easily measurable results. 

Nate started on the parts of Brad’s ass and thighs that still looked softer, before he moved on to the tighter skin. It reddened beautifully and Brad flinched and sighed but didn’t move, just like he was told. His cock kept twitching and filling up slowly, showing he really didn’t need any pleasure to dull the pain to make it good. But when Nate looked up, Brad’s face was calm. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his breathing was training-measured, like he was breathing through the pain, but that kind of calm was not what Nate was going for. 

“What’s the hardest pain you’ve ever experienced, Colbert?” Nate asked but kept striking. 

Brad was quiet for too long but finally shook his head like he was coming back to life. “I’m sorry, Sir, can you repeat that?” 

“What _were_ you thinking about there?” 

“Pain, Sir.” 

“Hm. I’m offended, Colbert. Is that what I’m here for, to produce pain and then fuck off? Is that what you should be thinking about?” 

“No, Sir. Sorry, Sir. Fuck, please, ask me again.” 

“I asked what the hardest pain you ever experienced was, but now I’m wondering if I should ask you who I am instead.” 

“I know who you are, Sir.” 

“Hm, we’ll talk about that. Answer me first though.” 

“Walking on a broken ankle, Sir.” 

“How did you get through it?” 

“I don’t know. I just… kept walking, Sir.” 

Nate smiled. Yeah, that was exactly what he’d done. It was time for a break again and Brad’s cock was full now, his thighs and arms trembling from pain and exhaustion but Brad was clearly more than willing to take it all. Nate was running his hands down Brad’s sweaty thighs, into the cleft of his exposed ass, over the balls. 

He moved quickly to grab a drink and let Brad have some before he came back to his position, his eyes and hands drawn to the same place again. 

“How’s the bladder?” 

“Getting there, Sir.” 

“Good. Let’s see if we can match the broken ankle, hm?” He let his fingers slip between Brad’s spread cheeks and saw his eyes go wide. 

“Sir?” 

“No?” 

“I don’t know, Sir.” 

“Let’s find out.” 

He didn’t have to tug it open at all, Brad was holding himself in place just perfect. He picked up the strap and held back quite a bit for the first strike that landed over the taint and the inside of one soft cheek. 

Brad jumped and for the first time Nate saw him twitch like he was going to bring his knees together. He caught himself in time and Nate smiled, proud.

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t know, Sir,” Brad said, but his cock seemed to be into it. 

“Well, let me know when you figure it out.” And he kept hitting. 

“Sir. Sir. Please, Sir,” Brad interrupted after a few more strikes. 

“Decided?” 

“I need to come, Sir.” 

“I’m not stopping you,” Nate said, taking a break, checking the skin and touching everything gently. The skin seemed on fire under his touch, he loved it.

“You know I can’t like this.” 

Nate waited for a moment but when Brad didn’t continue he jumped up, over Brad, breaking his posture and setting a knee right on his bladder. His fingers grabbed Brad’s chin tightly so their eyes had to meet. 

“I know you know how to address me properly. I know you know how to follow orders. I know you can do better than whine at me when you need something you know I won’t give you now. So how’s about you take a deep breath and stop baiting me.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Nate let his knee slip away from Brad’s body and he moved back down but switched to the other side. It was easier to reach new places that way. “Do you want me to continue?” 

“Yes, please, Sir.” 

Brad’s cock was a deep red now, straining away from his body and twitching with every breath Brad took. If anything, having Nate angry in his face seemed to have aroused him even more. Another thing to note for later. 

Right now, he focused on the fact that the strap would only keep Brad entertained for so long. He was right, the level of pain really wasn’t an issue for him. The direction change would give Nate a few extra minutes, but after that he’d have to pack it up. He kept at it for as long as he could see Brad enjoying it then amped it up for the last few strikes before he threw the strap away. He grabbed Brad’s cock with a hand still hot from holding the instruments but mostly dry and Brad cursed and dropped his legs, wiggled to try and move away from the burn. Nate moved so he could hold his legs down with both of his and grabbed Brad’s wrist and pinned it on the bed, not letting go of his dick. He continued as soon as Brad stopped moving but his eyes were on Brad’s now, letting his displeasure show. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No, Sir,” Brad said through gritted teeth. “I might piss if I come though, Sir.” 

“You better ask permission to piss real quick then I guess.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Nate kept glaring at Brad while he stripped his cock painfully and when Brad came it was obviously more of a relief than pleasure which suited Nate just fine. 

“Yellow, Sir, I gotta…”

Nate looked down and waited for a few seconds until Brad literally started trickling and then he got off and let him run to the bathroom. He was sure Brad didn’t make it when he heard the shower turn on. 

That was hilarious enough to calm him down a bit, but he was still not fully done assessing the situation when Brad fell on the bed next to him and asked, “So, what did you find out?” 

“That whoever you were with before was so focused on how much pain you can take that they totally let you slide on everything else.” 

He turned to share the joke with Brad and could have slapped himself when he saw a vulnerable expression blink on Brad’s face for a second before he nodded. 

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m being an ass.” Nate moved closer to Brad and wrapped an arm around him, pulling them together. “You were amazing, you held up so well and communicated everything I needed. And I saw what you meant when you said no one pushed your limits, you can take _a lot_ of pain.” 

“I didn’t follow orders very well though,” Brad commented. 

“Yeah, but, that also has to do with my expectations so, we can talk about that. You actually followed really well through most of it, I just don’t like uninformative chichat, but you couldn’t know that.” 

“Later,” Brad said and kissed Nate’s peck. “You’re still hard.” 

“I am, this was fucking torture.” 

Brad laughed. “Yeah, hitting me is so hard for you.” 

“What can I say, I’m a giver.” Nate pushed Brad’s head down. “Make it quick, Colbert, I want to see how I like it when you crawl, before we have breakfast.” 

**

It turned out Nate really liked it, especially with his bruises fresh on Brad’s skin, and then even more when it became clear that it was doing absolutely nothing for Brad but he did it anyway because Nate asked him to. 

So they had brunch instead. Brad grumbled about the concept but he never said no to food so he picked a chair with a soft cushion and ate it with his feet through the rail on the balcony getting wet in the rain. Nate watched, amused, but refused to join in. He generally refused to _enjoy_ rain, out of principle, but he understood why a Golden State expat might. 

Instead, he took his notebook and sat as far under the safety of the balcony above them as he could. 

“No chit-chat, hm?” Brad mumbled through his sandwich. 

“Yeah,” Nate made an apologetic face. “Sorry, it’s no excuse but it’s been a while, I kinda forgot how I get.” 

Brad shrugged. “It’s ok, now I know. That’s what we’re here for, right?” 

Nate nodded. “Yeah. And while we’re at it. I’d like you to try something. When we’re doing this, try not to think about the pain, or what we’re doing, or how to control the pain or yourself. I want you to think about me.” 

That got him an amused eyebrow quirk but he just shrugged back. Brad could always say no. 

“I’ll try.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Alright. So give it to me about orders.” Brad set his empty plate on the floor and turned to look straight at Nate. 

“You are much more lax about following them than I expected.” Nate tapped the pen against his notebook and couldn’t meet Brad’s eyes. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“I don’t mind correcting you, if you do your best and try. But it’s like… you’re not trying very hard at some points. You did well with what you expected, but when I...” Nate made a motion with his hand so their neighbors didn’t get the entire story but…

“Sandpapered me.” 

“Well. That. You did the exact thing I told you not to do.” 

Brad hummed and thought about it. “You may have had a point. About my other partners. At a certain point it would turn into ‘holy shit how far can this go’ and actually doing what I was told stopped being important. I can do better.” 

“I, of all people, know you can. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to.” 

“Full disclosure, having you hiss the orders into my face was breathtakingly hot, I can’t say I’ll never push for that. But I do want to try.” 

Nate felt himself blushing and scribbled into the notebook to avoid Brad’s smirk. “What about you?” 

“You’re fucking vicious when you’re like that. I’ve never seen it directed at me.” 

Nate did look up at that. “In a bad way?” 

“No, I was into it. The pain was good, varied. That strap is a fucker, I’m not gonna be able to shit properly for a week.” 

Nate wished they had a radio on the balcony. Or were doing this inside. Hopefully the rain was helping hush their voices. 

“I don’t know about the sandpapering,” Brad admitted. 

“Which part.” 

“Mostly the part where it felt you punched the come out of me? I enjoy a good orgasm, I wasn’t sure about this one.” 

Nate nodded. “Would it do as punishment though?” 

After a thought, Brad agreed. 

“So speaking of full disclosure,” Nate said, “I love it when you do things you don’t really want to do just because I told you to.” 

“Yeah, that’s not a sex thing, Nate, that’s your entire life.” 

He was going to protest but he remembered how they got here in the first place. “It’s different when I tell you to do things for your own good, or when I tell you to do things just for my amusement.” 

“Not to me.” 

“Well it should be,” Nate said sharply. “Telling you to get out of a dangerous situation is not the same as what we did in there.” 

Brad looked him directly in the face. “Maybe, but I’m telling you it makes no difference to me.” 

He took a deep breath and let it go. “Alright. Will it be an issue?” 

“Not if you don’t insist I do something I really don’t want to. Which you wouldn’t. So, no.” 

Nate smiled. “You did look good on the floor,” he said quietly. 

“You just liked watching the bruises you put on me.” 

“Definitely. I also liked watching you move, you’re an elegant man, Colbert.” 

Brad looked at him when he heard the name. “Do you mind calling me that?” 

“Fuck no.” Nate laughed. “I think you underestimate how badly I wanted to fuck you even when you smelled like week old piss and sweat.” 

“And they say romance is dead.” 

But now Nate was thinking about Brad on his knees again, his long legs, strong arms and the curve of his ass as he indulged Nate’s ridiculous whim and he felt done with the notebook and the breakfast, wanting more but absolutely unable to get his sated body interested. “I’m officially getting old,” he said out loud. 

“Really? Because I’m having a hard time noticing that what with being fucked steadily for the last twelve hours.” 

“Oh my god,” Nate got up and threw his hands in the air. “Get the fuck in before you get us arrested, Jesus Christ it’s not even a school day.” 

**

“Come on, get on the couch, I want to put something on those bruises.” Not being a complete exhibitionist, Nate was wearing some sweatpants. Brad, however, was somehow naked again. 

Nate managed to throw a towel on the couch just before Brad lay down on it, his feet and arms still hanging off it. His skin was a nice, deep red but not broken or blue so Nate was pleased. He brought out his gel but before he could use it he just had to lean down and kiss the warm skin one more time. Brad’s breath hitched and Nate smiled. 

“Shit, your stubble…” Brad said.

“Does it feel good?” 

“It’s making it burn more.” 

“Spread your legs, put your hands down by your hips, I don’t want you holding on to anything.” 

“Fuck.” 

Nate took his time kissing and licking all over the injured area, making sure his chin and cheek were always pressing, moving and irritating the skin even more. Brad sighed and moaned but didn’t move away or tell him to stop. “You’re so good for me,” Nate said and remembered Brad’s reaction to his sarcastic comment earlier in bed. He would have to learn to be more careful. His and Brad’s relationship was built on a healthy dose of sarcasm and ribbing, but he learned long time ago that it wasn’t the Iceman he was taking to bed, and it was a lesson he would have to reaffirm now. 

He kept going until Brad’s skin was an angry shade of red again and every move Nate made had him twitching, squirming and gasping. Eventually, Nate bit his way up Brad’s spine and across his shoulder, down to his mouth. He whispered, “fuck I love you,” before he tilted Brad’s head into a kiss. “I don’t know if I said it already but thank you for letting me do this to you,” he said when they finally stopped to breathe. 

“You’re very fucking welcome.” Brad answered with an indulgent smile. 

“Alright, Colbert, arms at parade rest, shoulders down, on your knees, ass up, when that’s done, don’t move until I’m back.” He didn’t stay to find out if Brad would do as told, just went to the bedroom to look for what he wanted. 

When he came back, Brad was in the perfect position. His hands were crossed at the low of his back, his shoulders pressed into the couch and his ass up and waiting. 

“How do you feel about bondage.” Nate asked, picking up the almost forgotten gel and spreading it softly over Brad’s ass and thighs. 

“I’m not really sure, Sir. I never trusted anyone enough to do it with, before. Sir.”

Nate’s heart did such a ridiculous jump that he had to swallow and take a breath before he could answer. He never doubted Brad’s feelings but sometimes Nate felt like Brad tore down brick walls with his bare hands just to let Nate in and it was overwhelming and humbling in best and worst ways. And he was about to push it further. 

“If you’re not comfortable with it, we don’t have to, no explanation necessary.” Nate wanted it clear.

“I trust you, Sir.” Brad said in a relaxed voice, like all he was thinking about was the cooling gel soothing his skin and he wasn’t basically kicking Nate in the stomach repeatedly. 

Nate was happy he was kneeling behind Brad because his poker face was not enough to hide all the feelings that were hitting him right then. He took another deep breath. “Alright. I have a pretty strong but easy-to-get-out-of velcro cuff that can go around both your wrists at the same time. I would by far prefer if you asked me to take it off instead of you ripping it off and potentially hurting yourself, but if it gets too much and you can’t tell me, you should be able to get out of it easily yourself. Good?” 

“Sounds perfect, Sir.” 

Nate moved Brad’s arms up, so his wrists lay parallel at his back, and wrapped them together. He encouraged Brad to tug a bit and see how it holds under pressure and it was pretty good, though obviously not meant to hold in a struggle. 

When Nate was satisfied that Brad was as comfortable as he wanted him to be and securely in place, he sat down on the floor, just out of view. “You are so fucking beautiful, Colbert. Your legs are ridiculous.” 

“My legs, Sir?” Brad sounded amused. 

“You wouldn’t laugh if you knew how many of my fantasies revolved around them. Sucking your dick, eating you out, fucking you on your back, all great things on their own but god damn being surrounded by them makes everything a hundred percent better by default.” 

“That’s good to know, Sir.” 

“I’ll tell you my favorite fantasy about your legs, but first, you’ll tell me your filthiest about me.” 

“Shit, Sir,” Brad’s shoulders twitched like he wanted to move. 

“Colbert, behave. All I want is your deepest, darkest secret. The thing you went to when you had to come in two minutes but then couldn’t look me in the eye when you were done.” 

“I don’t know if I can, Sir.” Brad’s voice was muffled because he was pushing his face into the couch. 

“I know you can. You’ve said far worse things in your life, Brad, are you getting shy now?” 

“Not things like this, Sir.”

Nate’s hand wrapped around the back of Brad’s neck tight. “I’m not asking you, Colbert, I’m fucking telling you what to do. If you want time to think or if you want to stop, you can tell me, I’m not here to hold your hand, is that clear?” 

“God, yes, Sir. I need a minute to think, Sir.” 

“You have a minute.” 

Nate kept his eye on the clock next to the TV and spent time idly running his hands over Brad’s body, the long arch of his back, between his legs, up and down his sternum. When sixty seconds passed Nate didn’t stop, or give Brad any more time. “Start.” 

“It’s in the theatre, Sir.” Brad paused, like he was waiting for Nate’s horrified gasp or something. He kept his amused snort to himself and kept touching every part of Brad that made him happy. Which was everything. 

“Fuck, Sir. If I needed to come in two minutes, I imagined a bright sunny day, us, Alpha, the fucking pogues. You’re on the radio, arguing with someone, you’re annoyed because they’re giving you bullshit. You don’t speak to me, just snap your fingers and point to the ground in front of you. I walk across the compound, some people are staring, but most don’t even care because it’s normal at this point. LT is angry, Colbert’s gonna…” Brad choked. 

Nate let him take a moment and kissed his shoulder. “You’re gonna fucking fix it.” 

“Yes, Sir. I get there and I kneel, but you don’t even look at me, you’re staring at the map and replying. I open your trousers just enough to pull you out, I start sucking you off but I’m so greedy I don’t even know what I’m doing, I’m just choking and you finally look down, like you don’t understand what’s wrong with me and you tilt my head just so, so I can slide on it perfectly until it’s all the way in and then out just enough that I catch a breath and then in again, no air, just you. I usually came there. I rarely needed more. But if I did. I imagined you coming, done, you zip up and smile at me like I made it better, and then turn away and make your point on the radio or give an order to Gunny or whatever, just walk away like I did what I was supposed to and my dick didn’t matter.” 

All through the story Brad’s voice kept breaking and trembling like pushing through it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Nate moved so his face was right in front of Brad’s, his fingers tight in Brad’s hair. “You’re red and embarrassed like I never had the same fucking fantasy, Colbert. Like shit never got so bad that I wanted to find my Team Leader and bend him over a humvee, fuck all my frustrations right into you and leave you bruised and leaking and wanting.” 

“I never knew, Sir.” 

“Now you know. And you did so well,” Nate paused to kiss him, “that you earned my story, just in case you were wondering who the real pervert in this relationship is.” 

“Fuck, please, Sir.” 

“In a minute. But you make a good point, I do want your mouth on me.” 

Nate took his sweats off and wedged himself between Brad and the armrest, pushing a pillow behind to make it more comfortable. Brad, however, had very little possibility to balance himself left. Nate placed a little ball in his hand, to be used instead of safeword, and carefully drew Brad’s mouth over his cock.  
“Don’t move, I don’t need you to do anything, just hold it in. Hold up two fingers if you can breathe.” Brad did it. “If it gets too much, don’t move, drop the ball and I’ll move you.” Brad lifted two fingers again and Nate relaxed back, giving them both time to get used to the position. Brad’s body was tense, a wonderful sheen of sweat breaking out again because of the strain of the position, now made even harder unless he wanted to bite Nate’s dick off. Nate carded his fingers through Brad’s hair and listened to him breathe through his nose. 

To be honest, Nate wasn’t as cool about telling his fantasy as he wanted to be, but he knew Brad was fairly easy going about sex and knew the difference between fantasy and reality. And if Brad did show interest, well, great, but Nate wasn’t actively hoping. 

“By the way, if my fantasy pisses you off, you do not have permission to bite.” 

Brad tried to look up but from his position it was impossible and Nate pretended not to notice. 

“I come home after class and you’re on the bed. You’re not wearing much, but what you are gets me hard so fast I almost pass out. Up, there’s almost nothing, just those nipple clamps with spikes on the inside, so tight that any wrong move could get you bleeding. But down.” Nate pauses and looks down Brad’s body again, the ways he bends himself to fit Nate’s needs. “You’re wearing stockings, half way up your thighs. Garter belt. A thinnest, smallest pair of panties known to man, and the shortest skirt in the world. Your dick is leaking but it can’t pop out so you are soaked through. And your legs, they go on for miles, I want to fucking die between them. Die fucking between them. Whatever.” He was looking for Brad’s reaction but whatever he had been expecting, nothing seemed to have changed. “You’re touching yourself gently, like you don’t wanna mess it up, or like you have all the time in the world. But I don’t care, I’m starved.” 

He felt Brad swallow around him and touched his cheek to make him pay attention. “No, let it drip. You’ll need it to fuck me later.” Brad did grunt at that but then let his mouth fall even more lax and kept being still. Nate took the whole thing as a positive sign, Brad seemed fine with it all. It did help him breathe easier. 

“I get on the bed, I keep touching your legs, push my face into your crotch and try to lick you out of your panties. I’m still fully dressed but I don’t have time to care. One of your legs is pushing at me and I don’t know what to do until it slips between mine and then I get it. I suck you through the underwear and rub myself against your leg because I have no time to process, to prep you, to take my clothes off, any of it. I don’t even need two minutes to come, I’m right there, just from the smell and the feel of you under me, just for knowing what you do for me.” He took a deep breath. “I lick it up when I come, from your leg, and yours, through your panties. And then, maybe, I have time to really start enjoying it. But as you said, I rarely get that far, in my fantasy.” 

Brad’s breathing was pretty hard at this point too and Nate noticed he was much harder than when he’d started so he helped Brad push up, sit back on his heels. Brad’s face was red and wet from sweat and spit, his lips puffy and bruised and his eyes a little lost and heavy. He was hard and not speaking. But then, Nate hadn’t asked him anything. 

Nate removed the wrap around his wrists and had him lie back. “You doing ok?” Brad just nodded, and Nate had him drink some water but didn’t ask for a verbal answer.  
“Don’t move a muscle.” He ordered before he straddled him and used the spit and precome that leaked all over his thighs to cover Brad’s dick and push a few fingers into himself. He was loose from practice and the night before but he also wanted them both to feel this. Brad was staring up at him, looking shaken and needy and Nate couldn’t let him wait too long. He took him in hand and started moving against the head, waiting to feel the right angle to push him in. 

He noticed Brad’s fists clench and stopped. “Put your arms up, hands near your head.” When Brad did it, his fingers were relaxed and Nate looked at them and then Brad pointedly. Brad blinked like he understood. Nate was sure Brad’s legs were leaning on the armrest and falling over awkwardly so he told Brad to bend them behind him. They’d make a perfect rest when he needed them to. 

He sat back again and this time he found the angle quickly, started moving down and kept his eyes on Brad. 

The burn was all the better because he knew Brad was feeling it too. He could see it on his face and in his twitching fingers and hard breathing. He didn’t speak. Partially to see what Brad thought about it later, partially because he didn’t know what to say other than how much he loved him. 

When the stretch became easier and his movements less tentative, Nate reached down to the floor and found he lube he put there. He remembered the comment about the punched out orgasm so this was a compromise. But also. “I’m gonna keep fucking myself on your dick until I come. If you come before, it will just make both our lives harder.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Brad answered, the first thing he said since Nate moved him from his dick and his voice was so beautifully wrecked Nate had to squeeze himself not to come. He also still sounded a little dazed but Nate wasn’t sure what to do about that now so he continued as planned. 

The slide was smoother now but he could still feel everything more than normally. The couch had been tried and tested and Nate let himself fall down as hard as he needed to to get the perfect feeling. He squeezed Brad tight on his way up and just fell down bruising them both then stuttered and fell forward when he realized Brad was lying down on the bruises on his ass, getting them rubbed and pushed into the couch and the rough towel. “Are you in pain, Colbert?” he asked instinctively. 

“I don’t know, Sir.” 

“You don’t know?” Nate never stopped moving but he set a hand near Brad’s shoulder to keep himself up while he used Brad’s dick how he wanted to. God it felt good.

“You said not to think about the pain. To think about you. So…” Brad closed his eyes, “I don’t know. Sir.” 

Nate paused to bring his other hand under Brad’s head and tilt it up. It was an uncomfortable position for his body but his ass was in heaven so he didn’t care. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” 

Brad did as told and Nate started moving again, same rhythm, fast and merciless, all about him. Brad’s fingers next to his face stayed lax as ordered. His eyes stayed open. His dick was hard. His bruised ass was being hurt even more. For Nate. So much of Brad’s life now was all about Nate and Nate had no idea what to do with that knowledge. 

“Get your hand wet and jerk me off, quick and hard. Don’t look away.” 

Eager to move, Brad did it just right, looking up at Nate all along and striping his cock with the same force Nate was using to fuck himself on Brad’s dick. When he came there was so little come left in him that he hardly noticed it spill out, but the strength of it was so hard he could barely take a breath through it and kept twitching when it was over, his body saying it was done, begging for a rest. 

Nate learned to ignore his body a long time ago. “Put your hand back.” He leaned in to lick it clean and kissed Brad to share. He was still breathing hard when he said, “I’ll keep moving, but I want you to try and stay still as long as you can. If possible, don’t move at all. If you have to, that’s ok, we’ll work on it.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Brad’s answer was sure but too soft. Nate looked at him carefully. He looked softer too. It was almost over so Nate didn’t want to just stop but he had so many questions. Instead, he told his body to shut up with the whining and start moving again. 

Both of Nate’s arms were supported on the armrest above Brad’s head now and he was riding him hard and fast. Meanwhile, all of Brad’s movements were clearly involuntary. His shaking thighs, the way his lips kept moving like he was trying not to speak between broken breaths, his eyes trying to blink the sweat away. Punched out sounds came from his chest that he didn’t even bother censoring and Nate watched it all in awe. 

After a while, Nate’s body gave up on the pain and started pushing through it with him, like he knew it would. He saw Brad looking desperate, licking his lips like he wanted to say something. “Don’t speak unless you’re gonna tell me to stop.” Brad said nothing. 

When he came, it was with one push up followed by Nate sitting on him and grinding against him until Brad was as empty as Nate felt and his eyes couldn’t stay open any more. 

Nate crashed on Brad, wrapped his arms around Brad’s shoulders and pushed his face in Brad’s neck. “Holy fucking shit, Brad, you’re incredible.” Without looking, Nate reached down and handed Brad water, but didn’t move even when he heard him drink. 

Eventually, he moved, slowly let Brad slip out of him, both of them making faces at it, and helped Brad up too. He wanted to say something about moving to the room or drinking more water but Brad shook his head. “I need a few minutes to get my shit together, let’s just go to bed.” 

Nate followed, trying to figure out if he should worry or not. But Brad seemed fine. Just, that unusual softness was still around him. 

When they got into bed Nate couldn't help but notice Brad's limbs were still restless and slightly trembling. He got out to bring water, Gatorade and food, whatever they might need, and after a short thought decided to wrap himself around Brad instead of a blanket. 

He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to ask Brad if he was okay. Usually Brad's moods were so easy for him to read and even though he was clearly not hiding now either, Nate had no idea what he was seeing. He stayed quiet instead and let Brad work it out himself. 

It took him a good twenty minutes to figure out Brad fell asleep. He stifled his laughter in Brad’s hair and relaxed. It would be ok. 

**

Nate was breaking his own rules by bringing sandwiches to bed but Brad was still sleeping, two hours later, and he had way too much restless energy to burn. They’d get something better for dinner probably. Maybe go out. But when he got into the room, Brad was sitting up, looking slightly disoriented. He smiled when he saw Nate though and then full on grinned at the sandwiches. 

“Yes, feed me,” he reached out and took his plate from Nate’s hand. 

Nate snorted and made a mental note to check about hand feeding at some point. 

“So why are we breaking the holiest of all the rules?” Brad asked. 

“Seemed like the right time.” 

“Mhm. Did I freak you out?” 

Nervous laughter spilled out of Nate, making him feel better. “Maybe a bit. But I didn’t expect it to be that intense either.” 

“Intense is a good word,” Brad mumbled. “Shouldn’t you get your notebook?” 

“I’ll fill it out later.” Nate waved a dismissive hand. “We can just talk.” 

Brad looked at him sideways but didn’t comment. 

“Here’s an idea.” Nate changed his mind. “Let’s go out, you love walking in the rain, we can talk, you can scandalize old ladies, it’ll be perfect.” 

Brad laughed but it was tinted with genuine relief. “Yeah, getting out of here sounds like a good idea. Let’s make someone clutch some pearls.” 

**

Unsurprisingly, two war veterans living in a fairly small apartment wasn’t a smooth process. Brad’s training position in Newport, though much calmer than Iraq, still brought back a lot of memories. And frankly, living together was bringing back memories on its own, for both of them. So sometimes the apartment felt too small and they had to get out. Nate liked the solitude and quiet of libraries. It gave him time to think, or, if he studied, time not to think, and it felt safe. Brad, whenever possible, liked being near the water, he always ended up on river or the waterfront. 

So with the soft spring rain around them, they found themselves avoiding stubborn joggers along the river once again.  
“It never felt like that before.” Brad said after a long, silent walk. 

“I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing,” Nate said honestly. 

Brad laughed. “Probably good. I think I would’ve enjoyed it more if I knew it was coming. It was a pretty zen feeling, just unexpected in that situation. Thinking about you instead of pain also changed my headspace.” 

“Yeah, about that. You said you couldn’t feel the pain?” 

With a slight cringe Brad corrected. “That’s not exactly true, I just didn’t know how to describe it. It was very much secondary, I felt it, but it didn’t bother me at all, it wasn’t the focus.” 

Nate nodded. “How do you feel about that?” 

“Wow it’s my least favorite psych eval question coming back to bite me in the ass!” Brad smiled despite his words. “It was interesting. Ask me again after a few more times.” 

Nate understood, sometimes it took a while to figure out new feelings. 

“Cool fantasy, by the way, would have gotten you killed in the boot camp.” 

“Oh god, I know, okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I did say filthiest.” 

“I don’t mind, but that didn’t sound like something I’d be into.” 

“I assumed, still gonna fantasize about it,” Nate smirked. 

“You do that, and feel free to share when you do.” 

Nate bumped his shoulder and they walked in silence for a while. 

“Oh yeah, how was the velcro?” Nate suddenly remembered. 

“Not bad. If I had to compare that and having to be totally still, and by the way, remind me to comment on your micromanagement there, just a sec, I probably preferred being immobile. That whole part of the scene, where I had little option to move, it felt… I don’t know. Like I was doing everything right. But then it got me messed up because I wasn’t doing anything. But you liked it.” He was quiet for a bit. “I think that, being immobilized helps me perform better, but actually managing it on my own makes me feel better.” 

“That makes perfect sense.” It fit in with every other aspect of Brad, the desire to perform better than everyone else, not because things were easy, but because they were hard. “And yeah, I micromanage. If I say don’t move I mean 'don’t move' not 'move a bit if you want to'.” 

Brad laughed again. “Yeah, I like that. It’s hard but, that’s what makes it fun.” 

“At the end there, I got a bit quiet. I don’t know if you noticed. But, I was wondering what is your preference. I said no chit-chat but I don’t mind checking in more often if you need me to.” 

“It was fine. The first time I didn’t mind talking. But the second time, when my head got like that, it was hard to answer questions. I just figured, if something went wrong, I had my words.” 

“That works for me.” 

They ended up walking so long they just stopped at a Chinese place for dinner and went home straight away. Nate stayed up a while longer and filled out his notebook, but Brad went to sleep early like every Sunday, to make sure he was up for a run before his long drive to work. 

If a week was really intense, sometimes Brad opted to stay at the base for a few days, there was always a bed there for him, but more often than not he did the two plus hours long drive home, and only complained about the traffic, never about having to do it. 

Meanwhile, Nate was taking classes and applying for internships. Between studying, working out, trying to maintain a semblance of a social life and researching ethical and financial backstages of companies he was considering applying for, Nate expected the notebook to be forgotten until next weekend at least. But throughout the week he kept coming back to it, reading his own words, comparing them against memories and against his knowledge of Brad. Something happened on the couch, when Brad couldn’t move, or couldn’t speak, or couldn’t see… or all of those together. It had such wonderful potential, Nate needed to get to the bottom of it. 

That week, thanks to a new batch of recruits, Brad could only came back home on Monday, he stayed in the barracks until Friday sending scathing reviews of his “...mentally deficient useless boots still clutching their mothers’ hands unable to follow a simple fucking order, calling me “Sir”, do I look like your daddy, boot?! We were not this dumb, Nate, none of these invertebrates are fit to lead a platoon into an ambush.” Nate kept smiling at Brad’s texts, ignoring his professor’s interrogative email and focused on finding a balance between being prepared and over-prepared when it came to figuring out what pushed Brad’s buttons.

**

The first thing Nate had decided was that he didn’t want Brad to be turned on when they started. Of course, Nate would be open for a debate on whether or not Marines were ever not horny, but he could work within adjusted parameters. 

He did wait for Brad to wash the week off and relax before he pushed him towards their bedroom and ordered him naked and standing against the wall. Brad commented on the mundanity of it non-verbally and Nate acknowledged his feelings but didn’t prompt him to speak. 

He watched as Brad undressed carefully and kept looking when he was done, standing and waiting. God he was a sight. Nate had to force himself to move it along and not just change his plans completely. With a firm hand he had Brad turn towards the empty wall and stopped his arms when Brad tried to fold them at his back.

“No, hands down.” 

It was an awkward position, Nate knew. Brad’s hands liked to be doing something and being forced to just… hang there, it probably wasn’t comfortable. But pushing Brad was the whole point and Nate really wanted some time to admire his back. He had plans. 

He spent a long time looking at Brad's tattoo and the muscles beneath it, having given up on understanding it a while ago, and then even longer admiring the smooth skin, some bruises that came with active training, veins on the backs of Brad's arms. 

"I'm not necessarily complaining, Sir, but your notebook said you weren't into humiliation." 

Nate was startled. "I'm not." Brad hummed and Nate broke character to stand in front of him, worried. "I'm not. Is this..." he couldn't finish but he let his eyes ask the question. 

"Between this and the crawling last week, it feels like you might be." 

Nate was indignant. "That was not humiliating!" 

While he searched for words, getting stuck between explanations and questions, Brad focused on his face, still looking calm but more confused than Nate had seen him in a while. 

"How would you describe these situations, then?"

Nate flailed, something he also hadn't done in years. "You're beautiful! I love watching you move. And... not move. For me. It's not humiliating! Is it?" Nate's voice was almost a whisper when he asked. He hated when the intention of his actions wasn't clear. The reason he tried to talk everything out was that he didn't want any misunderstandings, any festering doubts, any questions. And now this huge thing broke through his composure. 

"Not... necessarily," Brad answered, his eyes now comforting. "But I thought maybe it was supposed to be?" 

Nate sighed and looked down, his eyes catching on Brad's naked skin even as embarrassment ran through him. "It wasn't, I'm sorry." 

"Don't worry, I just wanted to check in to make sure were on the same page. You may proceed." The pause was several seconds long but eventually he added, "Sir," and Nate couldn't help but crack a smile. 

He tilted his head up and demanded a kiss rather than initiating one. A small reminder, if he needed more, that Brad was here more than willingly and their roles weren't set in stone. 

When they broke the kiss Nate took a moment to catch his breath against Brad's jaw. "So just to be clear." Nate wanted it out. "I'm not trying to humiliate you. And you're not humiliated?" 

"I'm really starting to hate that word," Brad murmured. "I could never be embarrassed with you looking at me." 

Nate's heart did that weird little jump it did every time Brad was openly affectionate and he had to close his eyes for a bit to gather his thoughts and relax. "Christ, Brad." 

Brad hummed into his ear and shifted restlessly. Nate knew what was coming. "Sir. You started something." 

Nate put his arms around Brad's neck and bent his head back to look at him. "I sure did." 

"That's a cheap trick, Sir." Brad leaned down and kissed him again, like Nate knew he would. 

"Are you trying to tell me to get on with it, Colbert?" Nate teased when Brad broke the kiss sooner than normal.

"For the last five minutes, Sir." 

"But what if I changed my mind? What if I like it fine where I am right now?" Nate was joking but a part of him, the same part that complained loudly as he pushed Brad into the bedroom without getting his fill, the part that missed Brad every night they spent apart even though Nate would never say it out loud - no way to do it without making Brad feel guilty for his choices - the part that loved the way Brad kissed and how gentle his hands could be, that part was voting to stay right there and kiss until Brad pushed him against the wall and then maybe not move for the next twenty minutes. 

"That's the exact kind of self questioning wishy washy maybe yes maybe no attitude I expect from a US Marine officer, Sir." 

Nate laughed and it broke the spell. "Alright then." He stepped away and back behind Brad. "Let's see about destroying your expectations." 

"Yes, Sir." 

This time, Nate started with touching. He ran his hands down the soft skin of Brad's back and then up his arms, the hairs there prickling his palms. He let himself explore with both hands, slowly pressing harder and harder, not a massage but steady pressure warming the skin up getting the blood flowing. Unfair, maybe, but he wanted to see where something so simple it must border with boredom got Brad. 

The first thing he said was many minutes into it and a simple order for Brad to spread his legs. While Brad did as ordered, Nate took a moment to look him over. He was surprised to see that Brad was half hard. Nate was enjoying himself, that was true, but while he thought Brad might be okay with what was happening, he didn’t expect him to actually get hard over this. 

Nate had so many questions but he wanted Brad off his feet a bit before he started asking. They had both been trained to avoid questioning, after all. He didn't wait any more. He pulled the crop out of his trousers, where it had been waiting, hidden, and flicked it over Brad's upper back four times quickly. Brad threw his head back and sighed happily. "Thank you, Sir."

Nate shook his head with a smile. "You're very welcome, Colbert."

He kept the strikes steady, over the top of Brad's back, skipping down to his ass and then lower, over his thighs and even calves. 

When he went back up, without pause, and the narrow tip of the crop started catching insides of Brad’s thighs, the soft spots, Brad flinched and lost his balance, catching himself on the wall with his palms. 

“Sorry, Sir,” he said, voice breathy. 

“That’s ok, stay like that, bend over a bit.” 

With his ass tilted just a bit up and his legs even further apart, Nate could reach every little spot he wanted, leaving small marks all over Brad, careful, but merciless. 

He took his time, made sure Brad’s skin was buzzing before he dropped the crop and pasted himself to Brad’s back, still fully clothed. He heard Brad’s hiss of pain and smiled.  
“Colbert, you’re a fucking treasure.” He wrapped a hand around Brad’s dick, held it tight but didn’t move. “You’re hard as a rock and all I did was hurt you.” He kissed the top of Brad’s shoulder and nuzzled into the buzzcut at the nape. “You’re perfect.” 

“Sir.” Brad acknowledged but didn’t comment. 

“But you started getting hard even before, with just my hands on you. Want to tell me what that’s was about?” He slid a dry finger over the head of Brad’s cock, felt him flinch away, pushing his hurt back right into Nate’s rough shirt, then precome pulsed out and he kissed Brad’s neck gratefully. 

“I’m not sure, Sir.” Brad spoke up eventually. "Something about not knowing where you are or what you're doing just appeals to my amygdala, Sir."

Nate snorted against his back. "I love it when you alliterate, Colbert." 

"Thank you, Sir." 

He also loved that Brad could sound so cocky in a moment like this. He started kissing every piece of skin he could reach and stroking Brad's dick slowly. He had some good intel now, something he could proceed with in the future. Mission accomplished. Time to sit on Brad's dick. 

He pulled Brad back from wall and pushed him on the bed, purposefully careless of his sensitized skin as he hit the sheets. Needless to say, they were not silk sheets kind of people. 

Brad crawled higher up on the bed, wiggling and groaning while he was at it and Nate couldn't wait long enough to get naked. He threw the lube at Brad and watched him slick up his too long fingers while Nate pushed his jeans down. They were still clinging to one ankle when he climbed the bed and sat over Brad, guiding his hand to his hole for a quick prep. 

He lost a bit of time when Brad first touched him; he was aware of pushing back and of Brad's rough fingers opening him impatiently, of Brad's skin under his hands, where he couldn't stop moving like he was checking if Brad was still with him, and eventually, he was aware of Brad pushing into him, the familiar stretch still so good he forgot how to breathe for a moment. But between all that, there were chunks of time missing. 

Brad didn't seem to mind, he was waiting patiently for Nate to unfuck himself, as it were, and settle down on top of him. Nate finally regained his bearings when Brad was as deep as he could go and he found his breath again. 

He opened his eyes and found his hands rubbing restlesly over Brad's nipples in a way that he couldn't imagine was sexy. 

Brad smirked up at him. "Back with me, Sir?" 

"I love your dick, Colbert." 

"I can tell, Sir." Brad's hands were restless too. Stroking Nate's thighs, up his stomach and chest, down his arms, like he just couldn't get enough either. 

"Sometimes the empirical method leaves much to be desired," Nate said, thinking about how he started the scene that day, wanting more data and not counting on how desperate either of them would be for simpler things.

"I wasn't complaining, Sir." 

"Good grunt. I'm gonna tell you a secret, Colbert." 

"Sir."

"Sometimes your superior officers make decisions that don't account for the full scope of human emotions."

"This is brand new information, Sir."

Nate moved his hips and watched through his own haze of pleasure as Brad's eyes fluttered shut. 

"Here's what I want you to do, Colbert." Nate made his body still, to be sure Brad would focus on his words. 

"Sir?" 

"Get on me and fuck me so hard I still feel you inside me when I sit on that bike tomorrow." 

Brad paused for two heartbeats and then did exactly as told, no questions asked. 

Brad had stamina and the perfect curve of his dick always made Nate think they were literally made for each other because no one else ever hit all the right spots quite like he did. 

Nate put his arms around Brad's back, feeling the slight welts under his fingers, barely remembering to run his nails up and down them but when Brad started moving even harder, he had just enough presence to keep up with it. 

It couldn't have lasted long, Nate thought, but it felt like it stretched forever. The feeling inside him, Brad's intent face - still in obedient mode - sweaty and overwhelmed with pleasure, and under his fingers, all over Brad's upper back, little marks Brad allowed him to put there. 

"Kiss me," he grunted between two breaths and Brad bent down immediately, pushing between his lips with the same hunger Nate felt burning inside himself. 

Somewhere between Brad's taste on his tongue, his lungs getting desperate for air and his fingers clawing Brad's marks, he found the time to come, but neither he nor Brad noticed enough to care. Brad kept fucking, even when Nate's eyes filled with overwhelmed tears and sweat slid into Brad's eye, stinging. Nate bit into his lip, not allowing him to move away and Brad understood, kept his lips where Nate wanted them, kept up the pace his body needed. 

Eventually, though, even he had too much. "Please can I come, Sir?" 

Nate's fingers tightened on Brad's back. "You going to come inside me? Leave a mess, Colbert?" 

"No, Sir." Brad gasped desperately. 

"No?" 

"I'll clean it up, Sir." 

Nate felt his own cock twitch between them. "Yeah you will. Come on, Colbert, show me how much you want to eat your come out of my ass." 

Brad shook as he came, Nate's strong arms still not letting him sit up, making his final push more like desperate rutting. Nate could hear him whisper his name while his muscles twitched, still trying to get in deeper, like they didn't know how to stop. Nate gave him thirty seconds to breathe before he pushed him down. 

"You have a job to do, Colbert." 

"It's good to be home, Sir," Nate heard him say just before he pushed his tongue inside him.

**

This pliant, soft Brad was so much different from the Brad who shook him awake next morning at 4, careless of the dark because they were "going to see the sunrise in Rockport."

"Haven't we seen enough sunrises?" Nate mumbled half heartedly. 

"Sunset _on the sea_. How many of those have we seen?" 

_Plenty_, Nate, whose morning classes used to start at 8, thought. But it was true they hadn't seen many together, so he pushed himself up and stepped into the chilly bathroom. 

Nate had to admit, sitting back on his bike and eating a sandwich while Brad's profile contrasted against the sunrise was a much better experience than his perfunctory 6am jogs across Boston. 

Nate followed as Brad walked along the seafront, taking photos of colorful boats and houses, fishermen and nets, fish glistening in the sun and suspiciously many photos of Nate. 

"That's not tactical." Nate finally commented when the camera caught him gazing at Brad probably far too fondly. 

Brad shrugged, and Nate marveled at the progress he was witnessing right there. Their relationship started because Brad snapped and knocked on his door two years after Nate left the Marines, after zero contact following the paddle ceremony, and asked... demanded, Nate drop everything and go on a road trip with him. And Nate had, of course. But when the initial madness subsided, Brad remembered who he was and put serious limitations on their outside interactions. Nate responded by pushing back. There were things he could understand, and then there were things that were as disrespectful to him as they were pure paranoia. They found a middle ground but frankly, from that point on, he'd been watching Brad become more and more comfortable. Neither of them were big on PDA anyway, but little things, like having dinner together, riding together, jogging together. They could be easily explained to anyone too nosy, but also weren't intrinsically incriminating. 

This, though, was a whole new level of comfort. These photos were fond, Nate's face in them couldn't possibly be hard to read, Brad's intent couldn't be misinterpreted. And he was just shrugging it off. Nate was hit by a wave of fondness so strong he had to turn around before he did something truly stupid, like kiss Brad right there with all the fishermen watching. He stumbled a bit in his haste and almost tripped over a net, prompting a hazing from both the owner and Brad and he withstood it with good humor, his mind still soaking up the joy of the moment. 

Brad did give him a questioning glance, he knew him too well, but it was Nate's turn to shrug it off. Sometimes Brad had to be protected from Nate's more introspective thoughts that lead to ideas about kissing on the pier or holding hands on the threshold or sitting on rocking chairs on the porch. Sometimes, honestly, Nate wished he could protect himself from them as easily. Not because he worried they wouldn't come true - he was more sure every day that they would - but because he hated how they made him want to act out, grab everything now instead of letting time do its thing. 

He spotted a cafe ahead of them and pulled Brad in that direction instead of just following for once. 

He clearly needed a coffee and a less romantic scenery, he was getting overly sentimental.

** 

For the rest of their trip, Brad offered choices, museums, beaches, forests, historical sites. Nate packed expecting anything so he voted for as much as they could do in one day and happily rode after Brad, enjoying the throwback, the ability to keep an eye on him and how good Brad looked on a bike. Brad had, unsurprisingly, done his research and Nate felt happy being led. They ended up overstaying their welcome in a nature reseve so Brad could take photos of a moon lit lake. Nate participated but quietly shook his head in amusement at Brad's desperate search for any bit of adrenaline. It was pretty well controlled now and he could observe it with far less dread than in the first few months after Brad came stateside. 

It was close to midnight when they finally looped back and started heading home. 

They stopped off at a diner for burgers and fries almost an hour later, and Nate casually brought up his parents wanting to see them soon. Brad hesitated before he nodded. Brad and his father got along suspiciously well, but Nate's liberal, opinionated mother loved discussing politics with Brad. Nate strongly suspected that Brad would be appalled if he knew how amused his entire family was at Brad's polite holding back while trying to explain to his mother what a bunch of hippie socialist bullshit all of her ideas were, without actually saying those words because she was as much a mother-in-law as he was likely to get. Nate honestly found it pretty sweet. 

That night, they didn't make it home until after two. They were both still giggling with familiar, shared exhaustion when they fell into bed. 

**

Brad woke up before six anyway, on a harsh inhale that threatened to choke him. Something about mental exhaustion always pushed his dreams into overdrive, like his mind couldn't find the energy to protect itself. Even something as fun as yesterday, had to end on a sour note. 

He knew Nate woke up with him but wasn't going to reach out unless Brad indicated that he wanted it. Some nights, Nate's closeness really helped. Other times, Brad just wanted to brood alone. Today was the latter. He patted Nate's shoulder twice softly, to let him know he should go back to sleep, and made his way to the kitchen to start the coffee machine. 

Barefoot, he stepped out onto the cold, damp floor of their balcony. They took the apartment because Brad insisted. Brad insisted because of the balcony. Nate didn't necessarily mind, but he could probably do with a cheaper place. But Brad, he wanted this. This exact moment, when his dark thoughts could be scattered by wet feet and a glint of sun on the horizon. He got his coffee and picked up Nate's notebook on his way out again. 

He meant to quickly leaf through it but the second he opened it he noticed the pages were full. He leaned back on his chair, wondering how Nate had time to do anything else last week. The whole notebook wasn't filled, just about half of it, but the notes were in Nate's clean, measured handwriting and Brad found himself oddly comforted by the sight if it. Maybe he should have let Nate get up with him. He took another sip of the coffee and started from the start. He smiled to himself when he realized Nate was using actual green, red and orange pens. 

There was less red, things they both didn't want to do, than he expected. To Brad it sometimes seemed he had so many limits no one could possibly break through any of them. But then he noticed “bondage - hands” in orange, but underlined with green. And yeah. His limits rarely included Nate. And the ones they did... he found them, in red, blindfold, blood, tickling, a few others. There was no question mark near them, no comment, nothing but Nate's total acceptance. 

Brad read through Nate's pages of orange and green, assumptions versus tried and tested, a well crafted action report. 

When Nate had first brought out the journal, Brad was both surprised and absolutely not. It was the most Nate thing he'd ever seen Nate do, but still... it was a sex notebook. He thought it would be a one time thing for an extensive list and then forgotten, but somehow, Nate made it alive. He made comments on everything, things Brad had no idea how he had time to observe. Especially since he personally knew how much time Nate now spent admiring everything. Brad's personal favorite was a simple note, "idleness - uncomfortable" written in green. He found his fingers twitching to add a comment to "sharp pain - more fun than dull pain?" before he remembered it was "their" notebook and he very much could. He rumagged through Nate's pens until he found a black one and started adding his own comments. He was about fifth comment in when he realized there was enough space on every page for exactly that. Fucking Nate. 

"Being without air wasn't what pushed me, even though it certainly added a satisfying layer of uncertainty. It was the overall feeling of helplessness that had me begging like a bitch in heat. Question. When exactly did you have time to fill this entry? Is this why you now take 30min on the toilet? I thought you were jerking off without me and was about to get offended. Not sure this is better." 

By the time he finished reading all of Nate's entries and added his own, his coffee was done and sun was warming his toes. He was also, predictably, half hard. Nate dissecting their sex life like a surgeon using logic instead of scalpel was as hot as he thought it would be. He loved Nate letting his nerd flag fly and what better field to plant said flag in, than Brad's...field. Brad snorted to himself and got up, taking the notebook and the cup to the kitchen before he took his shorts off and jumped into bed naked, pressing his chilled body fully against Nate's sleep warm back. 

"Mother fucking shitting fuck Jesus Christ, Brad!" 

Brad burst into laughter and nuzzled behind Nate's ear. "I want your dick, Nate." 

"You get nothing, you monster." Nate tried to squirm away but Brad was holding him tight with arms and legs. 

"The sooner you heat me up..." 

"Oh I'll heat you up." 

Brad didn't really have time to dodge the elbow that hit him but Nate also didn't use half of his strength so he just grunted lightly and started biting Nate's ear. Tragically, Nate didn't find it sexy when anyone played with his ears, but sometimes, that only made it more fun. 

"Stop chewing on my ears you mongrel, you said you wanted my dick, that's not where it is." 

"Hmm." Brad bit into his shoulder instead. "Here?" 

"I hate you." 

It was a testament to how well Brad knew Nate's body that he could touch him for three minutes and not hit a single place of interest. It was also a testament to how much Nate wanted Brad that he got semi hard anyway. By the time Brad finally got Nate into his mouth, Nate was as ready to go as he was irritated. 

Some days Brad liked it like that.

**

The next month was a mix of easy domesticity, internship applications and quality sex. Nate felt like they reached some kind of post-military quality of life plateau. Being a cautious optimist, Nate let himself hope for the future, but also decided to celebrate the current state by taking a long weekend off, mentally. He put his work away, turned his phone off and spent Friday evening with a WW2 book and his feet tucked under Brad's thigh. If Brad spent more time looking at Nate than reading his own book, Nate was certainly not going to complain. 

"You're up to something," Brad finally said when they were getting ready for bed. Nate acknowledged it with a tilt of his head and put his clothes on the chair, hiding his smile as best he could. 

"Good marine. How much do you want to know?" 

Brad looked at his face, shoulders and hands and Nate let himself wiggle happily under his gaze. It only made Brad more suspicious. 

"You're overthinking this," Nate said.

"I'm not sure I am. When?"

"Tomorrow morning." 

"Why?"

"Why tomorrow morning?" he teased. 

"Why are you doing whatever it is you're doing?"

Nate paused. Why? Because it was a natural progression of what they've been doing? Because he wanted to see if he could give Brad more than what he expected? Because he wanted to combine everything he learned into "something" relevant? 

He came closer to Brad who was still in his boxers and a brown shirt, waiting, half amused half weary. Nate put a hand under his shirt and moved it up until he could see the skin between the shirt and boxers. Smooth and pale, occasionally bruised, by Nate. 

"It's not that special. I want to combine a few of my favorites. See what happens when I push a bit."

"Because you haven't been pushing so far?" 

Nate could hear the laughter in his voice and looked up with a smirk of his own. "I've been cautiously pressing. Tomorrow I'm gonna push." 

"Jesus, Nate." Brad closed his eyes and came even closer, an invitation Nate couldn't resist. His hands slid higher under the shirt and he rubbed his nose against Brad’s, giving him time to speak if he wanted to. But it seemed Brad had no questions left.

** 

Nate woke up at 6 with an ease that he never had when he had to go to class and got up to go to toilet making sure he jostled enough that Brad would wake up and do the same. 

When they were both back in bed Brad eyed him but Nate just laughed. "Hurry up and wait, Colbert." He closed his eyes, indulged in a lazy nap until he was certain Brad gave up the glare. 

Next time he opened his eyes, the sun was up and Brad's breathing was even again. Nate leaned in and kissed his shoulder. 

"Colbert." 

Brad was awake in a second. "Sir." 

"Get comfortable on your front, arms above your head, legs spread. Turn your face to the mirror." 

Their bed was big, but nothing was big enough to contain Brad with his arms straight over his head without his legs dangling off the bottom of the bed, but Nate loved watching him try to settle. In the end he stopped him when he curled his fingers around the side of the mattress. 

"I like that. Hold on to the mattress, don't let go. I'm not gonna tie you up but I expect you to behave like I did." 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Close your eyes. Don't open them until I say you can." 

Brad looked at the mirror pointedly but Nate shook his head. "That's for me." The mirror got moved to optimal viewing position against a wall on the side of the bed some weeks ago and Nate loved it so much he just left it there.

Brad closed his eyes. He moved his legs where Nate wanted him to, obediently lifted his ass so Nate could slip a pillow under, to keep him just a little bit more exposed. Almost the same position where they started, Nate thought, but adjusted for new information. 

"The rules?" Nate asked to check in.

"Don't move, don't flinch away from you, tell if I don't like something." 

"Good boy." Nate bent down and kissed his shoulder to enjoy how the tip of his ear went red at the praise. "We're just gonna do one thing differently." 

He quickly grabbed a bag from the closet and pulled out a black tie from it. He wrapped it into a ball and told Brad to open his mouth and bite into it. "If you have to speak, spit it out." 

When Brad was set, Nate grabbed the comforter and pillow from the bed and set them right in front of the mirror, for later, and ran to get a few things from the kitchen. Brad waited patiently.

He got back on the bed and ran his hand down Brad's back and all the way to his calves and felt the tiny twitches of muscles under his hand until Brad relaxed as much as he could. And he kept going. He touched and kissed every part of Brad's body he could reach, listening to the moans and sighs coming from behind the tie. 

After a while, he narrowed his focus to the area just behind Brad's balls, pressing with the back of two fingers and circling slowly. It was not new information that Brad loved his perineum massaged, but it was a new context and Nate listened for Brad's reaction and watched his face in the mirror. He looked like he was sucking around the tie, his lips wet and stretched. Despite the harsh sounds he was making, his face was relaxed, his forehead smooth and his eyes closed like he was sleeping. Nate gave in to his need to praise him, while keeping the circular motion and watching his face in the mirror. 

Brad's face got redder and he got louder the more Nate called him beautiful, incredible, strong, perfect.

"Your skin is so warm. Your muscles relaxed. Your whole body feels like it's mine to do whatever I want with. Are you hard?" 

Brad grunted in what Nate interpreted as 'yes.'

"Do you want to rub yourself against the pillow?"

Another affirmative grunt and Nate smiled, increasing the pressure of his fingers. "But you won't, will you? Because I told you not to. Because your body is mine, right now." 

This time the answer was more desperate but Nate still read it as yes. 

Nate leaned over Brad, covering his body so his lips could brush over Brad's. "Thank you." 

Brad made a noise that sounded almost like a sob and Nate smiled, putting his whole weight down on Brad like he could imprint himself on him. "When I get up, keep your eyes closed. Crawl off the bed and find the comforter in front of the mirror. Get on it on all fours, make sure you're still facing the mirror. Ok?" 

Brad nodded and Nate took a few more seconds to get off him. 

Watching Brad struggle, move, obey... Nate stayed kneeling on the bed and watched silently with his hand around his cock trying not to moan. 

"That's it," he said when Brad was in a good position, "you look..." Nate stumbled off the bed and ended up on his knees next to Brad. "Someday I'll take your camera and show you everything." 

Brad nodded, eagerly, and Nate made another mental note. 

From his ever present bag he took out a little pinwheel with 5 wheels full of sharp little studs. 

He put two slick fingers right on Brad's entrance, his other hand ready with the pinwheel. "I'm about to do something. Remember to keep your eyes shut. You can move, but _only_ to fuck yourself on my fingers. Whatever you feel channel it only into that. Nod if you understand." Brad nodded and Nate pulled the pinwheel down straight away, dragging along Brad's soles, the pinch both tickling and irritating. Brad grunted first and while his foot twitched, he remembered on time to push back against Nate's fingers and try to ease his frustration by giving his body something else to focus on. Nate didn't make it easy though, switching between feet with varying pressure and going over his toes and his heels to make sure the sensations went everywhere. When his feet were sensitized enough, he moved higher, looking for those familiar soft spots.

In the mirror, he could see Brad's face going through changes, wrinkled with effort and pain sometimes, but with that softness, now almost familiar, waiting after every bout of pain. Below, he could see how hard Brad got, how red and wet it made him and how desperately he arched when pushing back, like he hoped to get friction if he just moved the right way. 

Nate would see to it that it doesn’t happen. 

Brad's grunts changed into whimpers and eventually became a high pitched whine that was only broken by his attempts to breathe normally. When he started shivering and his thighs seemed to lose the ability to control his movements, Nate dropped the pinwheel and pulled his fingers out carefully, making sure his hands never left Brad's body. 

He took the tie out of Brad's mouth and leaned in closer, running his fingers through Brad's sweaty hair. 

"It's ok, catch your breath." 

Brad struggled with it for a long minute but then Nate saw him start breathing easier again. His face, though, it was so open, so trusting all through it, even when he was barely breathing, like he knew Nate would stop if it went too far. 

"Keep your eyes closed. I'm gonna give you some water." With one hand still in Brad's hair, he tipped the bottle for Brad to drink. 

"You're doing so well, I love to watch you hurt for me. Where are you?" 

"Green, Sir. It was just... a lot." 

"I know." Nate leaned in and kissed Brad's lips, still open and wet from the water. "You take it so well." 

"Thank you, Sir." 

"Do you need a break?" 

"No, Sir, please." 

"Alright. Keep the tie out, I was almost done with it anyway." Nate touched Brad's lips, red and looking just used enough to make Nate feel good. 

Brad smiled at the touch, happy to be admired and too soft to be sarcastic about it. Nate leaned in to kiss him one more time. "You're perfect," he whispered. 

"Thank you, Sir."

He slid his hand down Brad's back, over his ass and let his fingers brush against the hole and over the perineum and balls. He wrapped his fingers around Brad's cock and played with it slowly, for his own entertainment, enjoying how hard he made Brad.

"You'll be happy to know I actually went out and bought two new things, so I'm not just using household items on you."

"Thank you? Sir." 

Nate laughed and kissed Brad's thighs, because he could. "Don't worry, you will definitely love to hate them." 

Nate pulled the first item from the bag and saw Brad tilt his head when it jingled. It was a light, long three piece chain. Two nipple clamps that normally just connected to a cock ring. But Nate got the longest possible version, because he knew that couldn't keep Brad entertained for long. 

He pinched the clamps to Brad's nipples with no warning and enjoyed the grunts he got for that. He swung the chains over Brad's shoulders and down his back. When he tugged on them from behind, Brad's whole body flinched. Looking up, Nate realized the reins were more than metaphorical now. 

"Get your shoulders down, ass up."

Brad did as he was told, trying to scoot closer when Nate's pull on the chain didn't lax. It only took one "Colbert," in Nate's warning tone for him to understand Nate wanted him to hurt himself. 

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"Yes, Sir." 

"Good." Nate wrapped the last chain around Brad's balls twice before he could tie the ring around the base of Brad's cock. It looked... uncomfortable, and the expreesion on Brad’s face confirmed it.

"Get on your elbows." 

When Brad did, with a hiss, Nate checked to see how tight the chain was pulling on his nipples. Not as much as the extreme they had tested before, but this would last longer so Nate was sure Brad wouldn't take his mind off them as he was forced to move. 

The second item he bought didn't fit in the bag so he got it from the wardrobe, giving Brad time to adjust and to realize the pain wasn't really under his control. He wasn't allowed to move, but relaxing certain muscles could shift his position minutely. It didn't really matter with the chain so tight. He could only make it worse, not better. 

Still. "You're moving, Colbert." 

"Sorry, Sir." Brad inhaled and made himself calm down. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

"You, Sir." 

"What about me?" 

"Where you are, what you're doing, what you're gonna do next. How much you like this." 

Nate smiled. He brought the new crop with him and sat next to Brad. The crop was a long thing, meant to reach far, with a thick layer of leather on top, almost like a paddle. When Nate tested it the pain went from stingy to deep after just a few harder hits. 

"I do like it. I love making a mess of you." 

Brad hummed and Nate lifted his head up for a kiss again. He made it last this time. He stretched out next to Brad and pulled him down a bit, making it easier to kiss even as Brad sighed in pain. 

"Alright, Colbert. You can move as much as you want to, as long as your eyes stay closed. I need your hands and mouth on me now." 

Brad groaned and kissed him blindly. Nate adjusted and let Brad take his fill. Brad's hands found his shoulders and arms, moved him, pushed and prodded until Nate was under him with every part of him exposed to Brad's tongue and clever fingers. He wasn't as composed as usual, though. His hands trembled and he bit at Nate with quiet desperation, moving lower and constantly sighing with pain and pleasure. Nate put the pillow under his head so he could watch him. 

When Brad reached his boxers, tented and wet, he pushed his face in them and kissed him through the cloth and even though he couldn’t feel the kiss, Nate moaned just at the sight of it. He wanted to rush Brad and tell him to take them off, to blow him and ride him and get it over with but he bit his lip. He needed to see what Brad would do. How long he would take. Orgasms were great but seeing Brad desperate... he moaned and bucked and Brad's hands pushed his hips down to keep him still. It took longer than Nate thought, Brad rubbing his face and slowly nosing the boxers down until his mouth finally found skin, and even then Brad just licked it quickly and went back to pushing his face into Nate's thighs, spreading him open like he was trying to crawl in. 

Nate took a few breaths to compose himself and wrapped his fingers around the crop. With Brad's teeth on his skin, he landed the first hit. Brad probably heard it coming, but the sting, high up on his back, still made him buck, and then the pain from his nipples and balls drew out a whimper. 

"Sir," he breathed. 

"Do you like it?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Then you should definitely beg for more." 

Brad moaned and with his face pressed against Nate's boxers, his breath wet on Nate's dick, he begged. 

"Please hit me, Sir. Please make me burn. Mark me, Sir." 

Nate shivered. "You are such a good boy, Colbert. You keep making me feel good and I'm gonna keep hurting you, okay?" 

"Yes, Sir. Please." Brad turned so his body was more accessible but he could keep touching Nate's thighs and hips, could keep his face in Nate's crotch. 

Nate started pouring down the hits. Brad's ass and thighs got most of it but Nate made sure to hurt as much of him as possible. In turn, Brad kissed and licked every inch of him, murmuring thanks and begging for more. By the time Brad finally pushed his boxers all the way down Nate himself was a mess. He barely remembered his plan, knew just enough to know what to do next but Brad's flinching and gasping kept him from moving on for longer than he had intended. 

The cool air against his dick gave him just a moment of reprieve before Brad swallowed him and then kept up his painful gasps and moans with Nate's dick in his mouth. It was too much. Nate pulled him up by what little hair he could grab and ignored the hiss of even more pain as the chains tightened around Brad's balls. He kissed Brad breathless and felt out for the lube, somewhere near the pillow. 

"Give me your hand." His voice was a wreck but Brad seemed too out of it to notice, he just gave Nate what he wanted. Nate poured lube on his fingers. "Put it on me, don't stretch yourself, and ride me." 

Brad groaned again and then stopped breathing while he carefully arranged his aching body to sit over Nate before he did as he was told. The chain was a problem. For Brad. He had to move it to the side to make space for Nate and that squeezed the chains tight everywhere. Nate had just enough self control left to let him sit down at his own pace and then he was done. 

"Fast and hard, Colbert, I want you to cry." 

Brad just grunted and started doing as he was told. The position was almost impossible for him. He had to keep his back arched to lessen the pain, and with his hand he had to keep the chain to the side to make sure Nate didn't chafe. It left him with little to balance himself with. He didn't go slow on himself though, pushed back just as hard and greedy as Nate needed him to be. 

There was sweat pooling in his collarbone and running down his stomach. His face looked pained and he was trying so hard not to lose focus. Nate knew how to make it better. He lifted the crop again. 

There was so much skin. Brad's chest and stomach were stretched taunt, his thighs on either side of Nate, his hard red dick bobbing in the air, only slapping Nate's stomach occasionally. So much potential. Nate's first hit was on Brad's cock and he felt ridiculously proud of Brad when he screamed in pain and surprise but kept his eyes closed. 

"I'm so proud of you," Nate said. "You are so good to me, Colbert, so good." 

He kept hitting, the exposed belly, his thighs, his cock, his arm, whatever he wanted, as strong as he wanted. Red marks spread all over Brad's skin until they looked like paths, unending. 

Nate felt he wouldn't last much longer. "You don't have a lot of time left, Colbert. You're too good, I'm gonna come soon. If you don't come before me, I'm not sure I should let you come at all." 

"Sir." Brad acknowledged. But then he just... kept going. "Sir. Please. Sir. Nate. Help me." 

Nate swallowed. 

He dropped the crop and got both hands on the nipple clamps. He wasn't sure Brad even felt him. He released them both at once and as the blood rushed in them and the painful hold on his balls released, Brad started bucking seemingly without control. Nate steadied his hips to make sure no one got hurt and watched in awe as Brad came apart like a wild thing, barely aware of his actions and noises. His ass was clenching around Nate and he had no choice but to come too, hardly breathing himself but unwilling to look away from Brad's face and shivering body. 

Brad kept milking him past the comfort point, still moving restlessly long after he came, his head down and his hands clutching Nate's shoulders. He came down slowly but his full weight suddenly felt like nothing to Nate. He held him close and rubbed his back, telling him over and over again how amazing he was. He had no other words. 

"I love you so much." 

Brad exhaled into his neck. "Nate." 

Nate turned him to the side slowly. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, still closed, and Nate kissed them away. He said it, but he didn't really think... He shielded Brad's eyes with his hand. 

"You can open them now." 

"Not yet," Brad said, his voice a tired rasp. 

Nate licked his lips. This was all new. "Okay. I'm gonna give you something to drink, first. And then some food." 

"Don't move." 

"No, I have it all here." 

Brad smiled and Nate reached under the bed for the things he had brought from the kitchen. They weren't cold any more but maybe that was better. Brad drank and ate fruit and chocolate from his hands with his eyes closed and Nate wanted to whimper at the sight. 

When that was done, he finally spread Brad's legs open and unwound the loose chains from his soft cock and balls, pulled it all out from under him. He remembered then, one thing he forgot to prepare. He would have to get up for a cloth to clean them. 

Brad's hand was still on his knee, like he couldn't stand to lose contact yet. Nate leaned in and licked the come from Brad's stomach and pecs. Brad made a surprised noise and moved to stop him but Nate grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers instead. He licked and kissed Brad's lips clean from the fruit and let Brad kiss him as long as he needed to. Then he moved down, kissed the hurt nipples, the marks all over Brad's stomach, licked his soft cock clean too, and gently kissed the tender skin of his balls, the sensitive perineum. He licked his come out of Brad and felt him stir again. By the time he was done, Brad was half hard and half asleep. 

He moved up again, put an arm around Brad's shoulders and tugged him closer, let him wrap himself around Nate. 

"I love you too," Brad said. 

"Yeah, I noticed," Nate replied with a smile. 

Brad finally opened his eyes then and looked up. 

His eyes were... shining. He looked satisfied and happy, still open and soft. Not exactly new any more, but still remarkable. He wanted to say something but by the way Brad was looking at him, there was no need. 

Nate touched his face and watched him smile back before his eyes closed again and the next second he was asleep. 

When they woke up, Nate would drag Brad to the bathtub for cleanup and cuddling. He would order food and gaze at a blushing Brad lovingly for far too long while they ate. Brad would roll his eyes and kick him under the table and then sleep some more on top of Nate on the couch while Nate wrote in the journal and kissed the marks on his shoulders. 

Until then, Nate pushed his face into Brad's wet hair and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Tragically not real.


End file.
